


Dreams of a Heart

by SaritAadam



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Hallucinations, Illustrations, Kidnapping, M/M, au where they are not starfleet oficers, well kinda
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:27:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25266838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaritAadam/pseuds/SaritAadam
Summary: Jim Kirk has all he desires in life: a great and prestigious job as Starfleet Academy's librarian, an amazing husband he loves more than anything, a family, peace and quiet.Life could not be more perfect. Except for the hallucinations.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	1. A Wonderful Life

The buzzer fills Jim's dream, drawing him to the real life.

His eyes are still sleepy, and he blinks a few times until they are able to focus. The first thing he sees is the man beside him, who has been reading until that moment.

“Good morning, Jim,” Spock says.

“Hmm- Hello.”

Stretching, Jim turns around and shuts his alarm before settling back into his pillow.

Spock has partially opened the blinds, and the morning light is lazily passing through them, brightening the Vulcan's strong jaw, playing with the undone dark hairs, glittering in the brown eyes, bare from all make-up. This vision of his husband has been the first thing Jim sees every morning for the last five years, and he can't stop admiring it. Spock's toilet, as incredibly beautiful as it makes him, is part of a shield, a support to the image of the perfect Vulcan he has to be. Except in the morning, where he is bare, allowing himself to be him, and allowing Jim to see it.

And Jim knows his blessing.

“Did you sleep well, ashayam?”

Spock extends his index and middle finger, offering a morning kiss that Jim accepts.

“I had a strange dream.” Most of it has already escaped Jim's mind, but he can still recall some of it: “I was commanding a Starship, and I had to meet an alien civilization called 'Teslan'.”

“There is no known civilization named like this.”

“Is this really what you find the most absurd with it?”

“It is the only absurd part. You would have made a great captain.”

“You think so?” Jim shouldn't feel so proud, it is only a dumb dream.

“I do. From what I have observed, captains tend to be reckless and emotional."

"Why, Spock! I've never heard a more accurate description of myself!" Jim jokes. "Do you believe I can still change my career?"

Spock raises an eyebrow. "I do not believe you would be able to quit your library."

The library Spock is referring to is Starfleet academy's, the most prestigious library on earth, and of that sector of the quadrant, with the wildest collection in all the domains as well as some rares books coming from all across the Federation, and even beyond. And the one James T. Kirk is in charge of.

"You're right, I could not," Jim smiles. He raises from his pillow to claim a human kiss.

He means it. He could not quit his library, she is his pride and joy. And without her, he would have never met his other pride: the Vulcan science teacher transferred from the VSA.

* * *

Jim doesn't remember how they have ended up with this house. It is a neo-victorian architecture, made at the start of the century, and is quite lovely outside. And it has everything they were looking for: not far from the Academy, a small garden, two bedrooms and even a third they have converted into an office and a meditation chamber. But at time, it can feel narrow, and you can hear the neighbors. It also suffers from the default of old houses: needing more maintenance and having outdated technology integrated into it (they have meant to change it for years).

They step from their room in the stairs, and are welcomed downstairs by impatient meows from a black cat running out the living room. This is where she has her bed; right next to the only library of the house with a few shelves dedicated to Vulcan's artifacts instead of being loaded with books; even if she prefers sleeping on the couch.

Spock takes her in his arms and carries her into the kitchen to feed her.

Jim follows him, and starts the coffee machine. While it is running, he goes watering his plants, making sure that all his potted friends have everything they need.

They sit with their food around the small circular table, both men side by side, the cat on Spock's laps. They inform each other of their plans for the day, or stay in a comfortable silence if they have nothing to say. In the middle of the conversation, Spock states a logical reason for them to adopt a sehlat and Jim offers a counter argument, like he has been for the last weeks, more for the sake of arguing then because he is against having another companion. To be honest, he is rather exacting at the idea of a new pet, and Spock is aware of it.

After that, they're getting ready for the day. Jim takes a shower, and, when he steps out of it, Spock steps in the bathroom, already dressed. They share the mirror, shoulders continually bumping, their products split between their respective sides. Most days, they help each other, Spock letting Jim know he has shaving creams behind his ears, and Jim doing Spock's hair. But, when Jim feels malicious, his hands mess with the soft black hairs instead, or he nudges the Vulcan's elbow while he's doing his eyes. Spock sends him a dark look and efficiently blocks Jim's access to the mirror. The human valiantly fights to see his reflection again, but somehow ends up in his lover's arms, giving as many kisses as he is receiving.

They leave for the academy, strolling in a comfortable silence side by side. They walk down the streets and take the tramway to the academy, sitting knee to knee. When they arrive at their jobs, they go their different ways after a last Vulcan kiss.

Jim enters the library, and he first takes the time to greet his team. Everyone is at their stations, ready to check out works, repair broken PADDs or welcome returned books and questioning students. Jim exchanges a few words with everyone, making sure they know he values them and their works.

Glazing over the check-in counter, Jim can see the library is already full of the Academy's young minds. Which is not surprising. The library can welcome four hundred students at a time, and she rarely contains fewer people.

Jim takes the turbolift to his office. For an outsider, his office could seem slightly disorganized. In truth, it's the perfect organization for him: everything is in view, so he doesn't forget a thing. Or almost.

He grabs the PADDs a yeomen has left on his desk before he arrives. Academy's teachers are always asking him to buy new books and academic papers. Jim has had issues with most of the teachers before, they often act like he is at their service and refuse to understand that he has constraints and can't meet all their desires. He checks who is sending the PADD, putting aside the teachers he doesn't dislike, so he can take care of it as soon as possible. He puts the others in a drawer. They can be forgotten for a few days.

After that, he fills his own demands for new books; he would like to add classical Andorian's literature to his catalog; he answers booking for the conference rooms, and controls statistics of check-out books.

After a few hours, Jim grows restless, and decides to go check the counters. Hearing the turbolift's doors, Sulu, at his usual post at the check-in computer, turns toward him. Jim is glad to see his smiling face.

“How are everything, Sulu?”

“Good, Jim. It's kind of quiet, to be honest. I was going to put away the books.” Sulu points the trolley he has filled with the books the students have returned.

“I'll take care of it. Walking would do me some good.”

And Jim loves walking in his library. Seeing all the books he is responsible for fills him with pride.

But before he could go, he catches glimpse of a familiar figure.

“Mr. Chekov! Back already?”

“Hello, mister Kirk. Mister Sulu. I just bring back this.” The student puts on the counter two engineering handbooks, a three hundred pages book about antimatter, a PADD and a microtape on the same subject, and a last microtape talking about a new prototype of engines. “And mister Spock told me to look for those.”

Sulu takes the note Chekov is reaching. “Let me check.”

Jim looks over his subordinate's shoulder to see the name of five of the most advanced supports he has about matter and antimatter.

“Well, mister Chekov, I am impressed you have managed to be that advance before the end of the second semester.”

“I could only be good at it, sir. You see, the concept of matter and antimatter was invented in Russia.”

Jim and Sulu exchange a look.

“Right,” Jim responds. “Anyway, you should slow down or soon I won't have anything left for you to read.”

“It depends on Mister Spock. And you're the one who can ask anything to him, sir,” Chekov laughs.

The librarian and teacher's relationship is not a secret, but Jim still squints, ignoring Sulu's chuckle.

“You know miss Galliulin, don't you Chekov?”

“Huh- Yes, sir.” The student is confused by the sudden change of topic.

“Maybe you could let her know she is two days behind to return her books. I would do it myself, but she doesn't pick up her comms. I believe I can count on you to transfer the message, can't I, mister Chekov?”

Chekov's face becomes pale. Every student knows that the librarian is a nice man, always happy to help you, until you hoard a book from his precious library. It is like declaring yourself James Kirk's enemy, and you don't want to be Kirk's enemy.

“I will tell her, sir,” Chekov stammers.

Not hiding his amusement, Sulu gives the student the references for the books he is looking for. When Chekov is far enough, the two librarians look at each other, and can't help laughing.

* * *

Spock has the tendency to immerse himself in his work and forget everything else, including his lunch break. This is why, despite Spock complain that Vulcan can function longer without food, Jim has taken the habit of getting him to eat, even before they started dating.

Today, Spock is working on his computer, two PADDs and a physical book, and doesn't look like he would have stopped anytime soon without his bondmate.

"Hello my love. It's time for a lunch break."

"The precision is unnecessary. I am aware of why you are here."

“Maybe I just wanted to see you?”

"T'hy'la, I have already asked you to refrain from doing so."

"Why? Afraid I'm going to distract you, professor?"

Already standing next to Spock, Jim is tentatively touching his hand.

"No." Spock is technically not lying. He tilts his head, silently pleading for the distraction. Jim is wholeheartedly giving him.

After a few minutes, Spock is parting their lips. "I would like to finish this before going for lunch," he says, like he doesn't have a hand under the shirt of the man sitting on his lap.

Jim kisses Spock under his ear, trying to bring his husband's attention back to him. Instead, Spock's hand is leaving his body, and it's like every cell in him is crying from despair and desire.

Jim wants Spock to take him against the desk right this instance, lunch and work's ethic be damned. His reaction is so intense if he didn't know better, he would have believed he has been aching for it for years, instead of being married to Spock.

But the Vulcan has probably seen some logic in not getting intimate in his office, so Jim accepts it.

"What are you working on?" Settling himself more comfortably into his husband's arms, he settles for the second best thing: listening to Spock.

* * *

Jim is in front of the mirror, trying to put the collar of his suit under the glare of the Vulcan's goddess Shariel, whose statue is right next to him, when Spock enters their room.

Jim turns to him, amused: "I thought the call wasn't supposed to take long?"

"Mother had some… difficulties, understanding that I am needed elsewhere."

Amanda has scheduled regular video calls between her family members, and even if they have complained that it was illogical to call people so frequently, they never miss one. Even when, like tonight, Spock has to go to an important gala.

Focusing back on his task, Jim asks: "How are your parents?"

"They are well.” Spock takes the Vulcan robe Jim has let for him on the bed. “They are sending their greetings. Mother is inventing us to Vulcan in thirty-three point two days."

Jim turns to face his husband: "Is there an incoming Vulcan ceremony I'm not aware of?" There have been precedents.

"She simply wishes to have a 'family gathering'. Michael will be there."

“Really?” Jim is helping Spock dress into his fancy robe. "You haven't seen her in a long time. You must miss her."

"It is not something I am feeling. Micheal's work aboard the USS Discovery is more important than our ability to see each other. Furthermore, the time we pass apart can not be prevented. In these conditions, missing her would be useless and highly illogical."

"Yes, I guess you're right."

When they arrive at the gala, they are seventeen point eight minutes behind schedule, or, as Jim puts it, fashionably late.

The gala is an annual meeting between the greatest scientific and artistic minds of earth. Spock is obviously invited every year. And so is the other fashionably late guest of the party.

"Hello gentlemen."

"Uhura!" Jim greets the singer by bringing her into his embrace. "It is so good to see you!"

"It is good to see you too Jim. It has been so long."

"Ten point thirty-five months," Spock says. "An impressive speed to tour the Federation."

"You can say that, Spock." She takes Jim's arm and walks between the men as they enter the building. "I am absolutely exhausted. Having to do a show on every major planet of the Federation, with barely enough time to travel between them… Talk to me about space travel again and I'll end up crazy! And as soon as I'm back on earth, I have to go to a party!"

"Well, we're all glad you're here. Your presence would have been deeply missed."

"Well mister, be prepared to have a lot of my presence. I'm taking a break to see my loved ones, and you two are concerned."

"It's an honor," responds Spock.

They arrive at the reception, and their senses are immediately assaulted. In itself, the room is already bright, with all the gilding, but with the lighting and decoration for the gala, it was blinding. And it is not helped by the abundance of colors on the guests' clothes; combinations of bright green, orange, blue, pink, yellow, red… More than a hundred dots of colors, sitting around tables or standing in groups, packing the room and making the waiters waltz between them to hand the tastiest alcohol of the galaxy. The buzz of the conversations is so loud, it hides the sound of the band playing on the stage. Except for exercised ears.

"Oh, they're not good." Uhura observes.

"I bet you could show them what real music is."

"Jim, you should not press her. Especially after she told us she is tired from her constant performing."

"Yes Jim, don't press me," Uhura affectionately pats his arm.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” a thick Scottish accent greets them.

“Good evening, Scotty.”

“Miss Uhura,” the man grabs the singer's hand to kiss it. “It's good seeing you, lassie.”

“It's good seeing you too, Mister Scott.” The woman lets go of Jim's arm and takes Scotty's.

“How did they succeed to make you leave your laboratory, Scotty?” Jim jokes.

“Yes, don't remind me, Jim. Our engine needs extra cares right now, and instead I am here. I trust me laddies, of course, but it's just not the same.”

“Mister Scott, how is the development of your new engine going?” Spock asks.

“It's going well! Is still too soon to tell when it will fly, but when it will it'll be a beauty!”

“I was studying the theory with my students, and we were wondering-”

“I have other people I need to greet,” Uhura cuts the scientists. “I'll see you later, gentlemen.”

In the end, it is the men who see her when, a couple of hours later, she is performing on the stage. Spock's reaction is to raise an eyebrow.

Jim and Spock quickly part from Scotty, as other guests want to greet them. And, like always in this ever moving social waltz, the couple ends up separated, each man in his own circle for a little while.

Jim is talking with a charming young lady, when he feels Spock calling him via their bond. Looking around, he finally spots the Vulcan when the latter raises two fingers, saying "My husband, attempt."

Somewhat pleased by his lover's jealousy, Jim can barely contain his smile as he apologizes to the lady and joins Spock.

Reciprocating the Vulcan kiss, he asks: "Yes, honey?"

Not showing how he despite being called like that in public, his husband replies: "I would like you to meet those gentlemen."

Spock is talking with three young men from the Earth Science Academy, quite brilliants and absolutely in awe in front of the Vulcan. They barely acknowledge Jim, too busy listening to the scientist, drinking his words like they are coming from the purest stream of water. They ask about Spock's past researches, request his judgement on their own studies, and wonder about his opinions on various fields.

Jim is absolutely content to listen to Spock when one of the young men turns toward him. "What are you thinking about your husband's work, mister Spock?"

Jim blinks.

_Mister Spock._

_He called him "mister Spock"._

Eventually, Jim smiles. "It is brilliant, of course."

He starts praising his husband in great length, being just a little over the top. Jim has noted it embarrasses Spock every time he does so, and has decided it is his duty to do it as much as possible.

But tonight, it is not working. The look his husband gives him is not the usual one of annoyance, but a look of interrogation and mild worry.

Spock is somehow aware of the weird knot Jim feels in this stomach.

* * *

Jim gets out of his official suit with a groan. It could be quite uncomfortable after a full evening in it.

"There were interesting people tonight."

The words are hollow even at his ears. But Jim is too aware of Spock's eyes observing him, waiting to know what is bothering him. And he would like to avoid the conversation as long as possible.

"Indeed."

"It's been nice seeing Scotty and Uhura."

"Yes."

"We should see them soon."

"Yes."

Jim is doing his best to not look directly at his husband. He takes his time looking in his dresser, he keeps his eyes on the fabric of his clothes, and when he finally sits on his bed, his back is turned.

"And wh-"

A cold hand on his back cuts him. He knows the contact is a way for Spock to know his feelings. He doesn't mind.

“T'hy'la. You have been acting strange this evening. What is bothering you?”

“K'wida…” Taking a deep breath, Jim turns to face his husband, taking his hand. “It is nothing important.”

“Then you would not mind telling me.”

“I'm afraid you won't like it.”

“If this concerns your human pride, I guarantee you, I will not be affected.”

“Very well then.” Jim presses Spock's hand once. Before anything, he wants the Vulcan to feel how much he is loved. “You know when that boy called me 'mister Spock'?”

“Yes.”

“It felt… Strange.”

Spock raises an eyebrow.

“Not in the sense that it is strange to be your husband. I- I'm proud to be your husband. But there was a part of me who said 'that's not my name. My name is'...”

Suddenly, Jim feels incredibly stupid. It is probably not the first time someone has referred to him as “mister Spock”, is it? He doesn't remember, which makes his overreaction more ridiculous. And it's without saying how his brain called him. He let go of Spock's hand, and twists his together.

“Forget it. I must have drank too much. I'm just being emotional and illogical.”

“Jim,” Spock grabs his arm. “You are not being illogical.

Jim looks at him, skeptical, “Really?”

“No. A name is something important. It is how you are remembered, what comes up when someone is looking at your achievements. It is logical to want it to be acknowledged.”

“Well, I don't think I'll ever have a greater achievement than marrying you,” Jim says seductively.

Spock's expression becomes soft, with a smile Jim has never seen him give anybody else. “This is untrue. You are in charge of the most prestigious library on earth.”

“She was already prestigious when I got the job, it is not my doing.”

“Perhaps not, but since you are in charge, she is well on her way to become the most renown of the quadrant.”

Jim has forgotten to mess with his hands, too busy smiling at his husband.

“Jim, it is easy to maintain an institution with high reputation, but harder to improve on it. You should not undervalue your accomplishments.”

“Spock…” Jim's next words get stuck in his throat. “I love you.” He says it in a whisper, afraid to hear the response, like a confession.

Spock replies with the same tone: “I love you too.”

With his heart beating like he's going to pierce his skin, Jim kisses Spock.

An arm hugs Jim almost shyly, not daring asking for more. But Jim wants more, needs more. He pulls Spock toward him at the same time as he gets closer and closer and closer until he is sitting in his husband's laps in the middle of their bed, and he continues to get closer. They are skin against skin, Jim feeling the beating of the Vulcan's heart like it is in his own ribs, and he still wants to get closer.

Spock moves his hand along Jim's arm, sending shivers along it. He stops when his fingers reach Jim's and rubs them together. It leaves Jim only one hand, sneaks between the two torsos, to touch Spock, to run his fingers in the body hairs, to draw the line of the muscles. Spock's hand is moving as well, brushing his side, sliding inside his pants and along his tight.

Soon, their mouths join their hands in the exploration. Leaving behind lips, they kiss cheeks, noses, eyebrows, jawlines, ears, necks, shoulders. Every inch they can reach is met and left in fire

Their penis finally ask that they get rid of the few clothes they're still wearing. The few inches they spend apart are painful.

They kiss again. Jim grabs Spock's hand, busy following the human's stretch marks, to bring it to his ass.

Jim relishes the fingers inside him; moving, parting; as much as he relishes the wrist against his cheek, the lower arm against his tight, the bicep along his ribs, the tongue on his tits, the scapula moving under his palms.

As he has initiated the fingering, he stops it, slowly removing the long fingers from him. He places the hand under his hip, not wishing to lose the contact.

He places himself on top of Spock, slowly putting the Vulcan's inside him. He can feel every pulse of the penis in him, and need a moment still. He looks at Spock.

The face is glowing in the warm light of their room, so close Jim can see all its imperfections, and finding it prettier because of them. He runs a reverent finger along the features, on the wrinkles in the forehead, the eyebrows who make the face appear more grave than it truly is, under the small eyes, along the cheekbones, the thin cheeks, the long and elegant nose. When Jim runs his finger on the small lips, Spock takes it and kisses it, kisses the palm, the inside of the wrist, never breaking eye contact with the human. The look makes Jim shiver and move.

Spock moves with him, his waist going up when Jim's goes down. He kisses the human again, and Jim doesn't part as long as he can still breath, which is until long fingers take his penis.

They move faster and faster. Jim feels his nails getting deeper in Spock's shoulders. His moans fill the room, and leave his neck vulnerable to the Vulcan's mouth.

Suddenly, Spock bites him, hard, and Jim screams, and screams and scream and again and again and he can not stop. His hand is in the black hairs and his lungs breathe the Vulcan's shampoo.

He wishes for his world to be this until the end of time: the sound of the mattress moving, and of their bodies colliding, the sheets under his toes, Spock's odor and Spock's mouth and Spock's cold body burning him.

They come.

Spock is the first to fall asleep, into Jim's shoulder. His bondmate is playing with the dark hairs, his sleepy mind thinking again about the gala, the young scientist and how his subconscious has wished to be called.

_Captain James Kirk._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy I can finally post this story! It's one of three babies I crafted during confinement and the "youngest".  
> Don't be afraid to leave feedbacks, every kudos and comments make my day :) And if you want, come say hi on tumblr @saritaadam


	2. As Dream Are Made Of

Being a starship's captain becomes a recurring dream, visiting Jim every night. When morning comes, he can't recall the specifics, just the knowledge he was at the far end of outer space, the feeling of sitting in the middle of a room full of beeping noises and walking in crowded corridors like he owns the place. The only time he had more memories of his dream was the night after the gala. He remembers Uhura, a comm in her ear, giving him a message, and Scotty, activating a transporter.

He doesn't tell Spock about it, nor about the headache he always has right after waking up. It's gone with his first cup of coffee anyway.

And truth is, Jim doesn't have the time to worry about a dream. If he and Spock are to go to Vulcan in a month, there are things he has to do for the library; like setting an exposition for her new addition, physical copies of 1960s science-fiction novels, or concluding a partnership with two off-planet libraries, one Starbase and one Caitlin. He also needs to contact a Tellarite's library for science journals they promised him three weeks ago.

So Jim manages to ignore his worries for the weekend and the following Monday.

But on Tuesday afternoon, he has done all his daily tasks, and his comm is staying quiet, so he is taking care of the PADDs forgotten in his desk.

He crafts the answers for the two first ones without any issue, but as he is reading the third, a pain starts growing at the back of his head.

On the PADD, there is a request for materials about the accident that killed two hundred people on the USS Farragut ten years ago.

Jim reads the PADD again. And a third time. His headache is getting worse.

He puts the PADD back in his desk.

“Computer, search dream analysis."

Turns out, there is no analysis of dreaming to be a starship's captain. So Jim looks the signification for a sea ship. It simply tells him about “journey in your life”, and sailing means he is on top of his emotions. So he looks up outer space, and learns it is supposed to mean he is ready to explore the unknown, which is nothing new, or stressed. Travelling means unsatisfaction in life, which he dismisses, and stress. Adventure represents tiredness. Danger, tiredness and stress.

His comm beeps in his pocket.

"Jim, this is Spock. Are you still at work?"

"Yes I am. Why?"

"Your shift has been over for eighteen point nine minutes. I am waiting in front of the university."

"Oh. I'm sorry, honey. I was… doing some research and did not see the time."

"It is alright."

"I'm leaving right away. Kirk out."

Jim looks at his comm, puzzled. It is a strange way to end a call.

Before leaving, the man tidies his desk, putting away the numerous PADDs and books, and checks his messages to know if he will have to take care of that once at home.

Turning off his computer, he glances one last time at the screen, telling him the causes of his dream are tiredness and stress.

The following morning, before his headache dissipates, Jim promises himself he will take it easy.

Before lunch, he has answered all the PADDs forgotten in his drawer, concluded the partnership with the Starbase's library, sorted his library statistics and ordered new material accordingly, including the Andorian's books he asked the Academy. Those new books mean he has to plan an event for them, which he will do when he is done with the science fiction exposition. He has been taking care of that when he realizes it is past noon and time to go pick up his husband.

When Spock notes that Jim is intensively rubbing his eyes, the human waves away the concern. He has always been prone to headache, so if this, and a particular dream, are the only downside of his stress, he can handle it.

He returns to his library, reading a PADD.

“Good day, sir.”

“Hello, mister-” Looking up, what Jim sees stops him.

Chekov is standing with a pile of books as tall as him in front of the reception desk, which Sulu is managing. Nothing unusual in that picture, except for the fact that both men are wearing the golden uniform of Starfleet.

“What are the orders, captain?” Sulu asks him.

Looking around him, Jim almost lets his PADD drop. He is surrounded by a wave of gold, red and blue. Not a person in the building, none of his coworkers or the students, who is not wearing the bright colors and insignia of Starfleet.

He repeats Sulu's words: “What are-” A sharp pain behind his eyes cuts him, almost making him groan from pain. He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Captain, are you alright?”

Chekov's question brings a new wave of pain. Jim ignores the young man and takes a deep breath.

For a short moment, who stretches forever, the silence is absolute. More than that, Jim doesn't feel the other people in the room, or the library under his feet. It's like all his senses have shut down. The man is convinced he just fainted.

But when he opens his eyes, he is still standing. Sulu and Chekov are around him, worried and in their regular clothes.

“Jim,” Sulu asks, “are you okay?”

After a quick glance to be sure that no one was still in a Starfleet uniform, Jim responds: “Yes, I just- It's just a headache.”

The two men exchange a look.

“I'm fine.” Jim is putting a little too much authority in this statement.

“Alright. But if you need it I can take your shift at the desk.”

Jim's first instinct is to refuse. But there is still a pounding in his skull.

“I may need half an hour of quiet,” he admits. He pats his friend's shoulder. “Mister Sulu, you have the conn,” he exclaims, already walking toward the turbolift.

Considering the weird phrasing, Jim can't tell if he's hallucinating the “Aye, captain”.

* * *

“Sorry Jim, I have less time to talk with you than I thought,” Sam Kirk says on the computer screen. “I need to go back to work.”

“Why,” Jim asks his older brother, “are we never able to do the calls we program with each other?”

“It's our curse,” Sam shrugs.

Sam has been living on the planet Daneva for the past year, but has been off planet for his researches since Jim got his current job at Starfleet. Jim is proud of his brother's work, but he could call more.

“How much time can you spare me?”

They start chatting, mostly about their works. Jim explains his current project at the library before the scientist talks about his research on a parasite.

“-And Aurelan came with the idea to use another colorant,” Sam proudly gushes about his wife. “And suddenly another part of the parasite was visible!”

“That's impressive.” Jim isn't as much in the conversation as he would like. Since the start of the call, he has been fighting a headache. “And how is Aurelan? And the kid?”

“They're all well. Aurelan says hi. She would have liked to talk with you, but she is needed at the lab.”

The pain becomes stronger. But what really throws Jim off balance is the new hallucination flashing in front of his eyes, there and gone before he knows what is happening.

_Aurelan is looking at him, her breath erratic and her face distorted with pain._

_“You are here. It is you, Jim. … Things… Horrible things… Not their fault!”_

_She is screaming the last words, her whole body convulsing in agony. Jim is pushed aside so she can receive a tranquilizer. The medicine is effective, but not for long._

_“Don't let them!” the woman pleads him._

_She screams again, and life leaves her._

Sam is still talking. Jim hears him like he is far away, but it is enough. “And Peter is with her. He still likes to help us. He loves biology as much as we do!”

_The small body of his nephew is lying on a medical bed, sedated._

“Everything's alright, Jim?”

Jim looks at his computer, to the worried face of his brother.

_His brother lying in his lab, lifeless._

Jim finds himself incapable to answer. He clears his throat, allowing himself this short time to collect his nerves.

“I have a headache, that's all.” Jim knows the smile he's offering is weak. It's technically not a lie, he feels like his head is going to explode.

“Oh. You rarely react that strongly-”

“It sometimes happens, you don't have to worry about it.” Jim straightens himself in front of the screen, a quiet way to defy anyone to contest him. He doesn't feel comfortable discussing with the man anymore. “I think you need to go back to work.”

“Yes, I do,” Sam carefully responds. “Jim… Call me soon, would you?”

“Of course,” he is sure his smile is convincing.

Jim does not allow his hands to shake while he turns the computer off.

He stays in his chair, unable to move. The pouncing in his head is too strong. He closes his eyes, taking deep, long breaths. The regular respiration is more than useful when, once the defiance is gone, the anxiety is rushing in. He has just seen flashes of his family dying. Where does that come from?

Once his headache has fainted enough to allow him to stand, he flies from the room. He can barely resist the temptation to call Sam back and beg him to leave Daneva.

In the living room, Spock is in the chair he usually uses to play his lyre. But the instrument is carefully sitting beside it, Spock arms occupied by a loudly purring cat. Jim can't help but smile in front of the scene.

But Spock does not smile. Hearing his bondmate coming, he looks at him, and immediately rises on his feet, letting go of the cat who unhappily meows.

“Jim, are you well?”

“Oh, I'm alright,” Jim responds weakly, twisting his hands.

Standing in front of him, Spock claps his hands behind his back. “You have a headache.” It is not a question.

“It will go away, eventually.”

Spock tilts his head, silently trying to know what Jim isn't telling him. “Is your brother unwell?”

“No, Sam is fine! Everything is fine!” Jim walks away, still nervously fidgeting with his hands. He knows he is telling Spock that everything is not, in fact, fine.

“Dear, let me help.”

He is saying that like he says “I love you”, afraid of rejection. Like Jim could ever reject him.

“I don't know how to explain it…”

Spock tilts his head again, a quiet invitation to try and the reinsurance of being understood.

“Okay,” Jim whispers. He sits on the sofa, inviting Spock to come next to him. Spock does so, patiently waiting for his husband to talk.

Jim watches the wall in front of him, taking a deep breath. “When I was talking with Sam I- I had flashes. I saw him, and his family… dying.”

Spock raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean by “flashes”?”

“Like… a memory.”

“This can not be a memory as your brother is very much alive.”

“I am aware of that, Spock,” Jim shoots between his teeth.

Spock straightens next to him. “I was only stating the truth, I did not mean to be insensitive.”

“No, I know my love I- I'm sorry, I'm just-” He grabs Spock's wrist with one hand, rubbing his face with the other. “I'm just worried.”

“About your brother?”

“Yes.”

Spock bites his cheeks, a faint hesitation. “Did Samuel tell you anything to worry you? Was there anything to trigger your flashes?”

“Nothing really, he was telling me about Aurelan and Peter. Everything seems to be fine.”

“In that case it seems illogical to-”

“It's not-” Jim cut himself before he actually shoots, raising to his feet. “It is not about logic. It's a feeling. A feeling that is telling me something is awfully wrong."

“But you do not know what.”

“No, I do not.”

The following silence feels eternal to Jim. He knows how he sounds, and that Spock must think he is losing his mind.

But Spock will not abandon him.

“Would it make you feel better to go visit Samuel and his family? We can profit of our travel to Vulcan to make a detour to Daneva.”

Jim is looking at his husband with stars in his eyes. With Spock at his side, he could take the galaxy. But he is uneasy at the idea to go to Daneva.

“Can I think about it?” he eventually responds. “We both need to see how long we can leave our post.”

“Of course.”

For a second, Spock looks like he wants to say something else, but does not. Jim could ask him, but he doesn't want to fight. He has a headache and is tired.

Sitting back, he lays his head on Spock's shoulder. The Vulcan put his arms around him. In a few hours, he will carry his asleep bondmate into their bed.

When Jim wakes up the following morning, he is not surprised to have dreamed about captain Kirk responding to a distress signal from Daneva.

* * *

Jim goes a full day without any hallucination nor headache, excluding the one when he has woken up. But he shouldn't be surprised when it happens again.

He is in the library after closing time, collecting the books and PADDs the students have left on the tables. He is uneasy, being here alone. Without the constant buzzing of four hundred people, the place is empty.

He is in the micro biology section of the library when suddenly he is not. The shelves and the books are gone, and instead, Jim is standing in a white corridor, with doors every few steps. A starship. The one in his dreams. A real one, he knows.

Jim looks behind him. It's the continuation of the corridor. Coming closer to a wall, he touches it. He only feels the surface under his fingers, no books.

He walks the hallway, coming at a halt at the first intersection. It is exactly where the intersection of the library is. He notices the same thing with the next intersection, and the next, and he ends up in front of a turbolift, exactly where it is supposed to be.

Once inside, his first instinct is to tell the computer his destination, but he hesitates. What should he say? Reception or… bridge?

He decides to operate the lift manually and… it's going down. It's not supposed to go down.

He puts a hand to his temple.

When the doors of the turbolift open, Jim is in the library.

Ignoring his headache, Jim summons all his natural authority and steps out the lift. If his coworkers notice anything amiss, they do not say it.

When he locks the building for the night, he does not walk back home. Instead, he wanders San Francisco.

Jim feels his anxiety creeping inside him, and who would not be stressed in his situation. But he refuses to let it dictate his actions. Instead, he's focusing on his annoyance. He is annoyed by the hallucinations and the never ending headaches. He is annoyed by the interference in his relationships, his marriage, his job. He is annoyed all seems to be caused by a dumb dream. He is annoyed to not understand!

So, he is trying to understand. He's going to look for another place that triggers a hallucination, a headache, anything, and if he needs to turn the whole city upside down for that, so be it!

But San Francisco stubbornly stays San Francisco. And Jim stubbornly continues to look, almost hopping a street will turn into a Starship's hallway or an alien planet.

Eventually, he ends up in The Presidio and pushes to the Golden Gate Bridge. He walks on the bridge, stopping when he has a perfect view of Starfleet's Headquarters. For a moment, he contemplates the idea to go inside, see what would happen. But he decides against it, settling on trying to invoke images of the building's indoor.

As soon as he does, the pain in his head becomes sharp. Jim hardens his grip on the barrier in front of him, his eyes glue to the building.

_Come on Kirk! You walk the doors and what is there? It must have something to check the identity. How is it?_

The pain is beating in his head, like his body is being punched from the inside. It is so overwhelming, he doesn't even feel he is hurting his hand with his grasp on the guard-rail. His eyes are blurry.

_You can see 5 floors, how do you go there? How are they organized? Come on, you must know something!_

When he opens his eyes, his knees are on the floor.

Using the hold he still has on the barrier, Jim stands up. He stays there a little longer, eyes fix on the water under him, just long enough to steady his breath and his everything. He does not spare a glance at the Starfleet's Headquarters when he walks away.

His experiment has given nothing.

* * *

When Jim turns on the light of the living room, he is not surprised to see that Spock is waiting for him. He has ignored his comm all evening.

Spock raises on his feet, clasping his hands behind him.

They look at each other for a moment, Spock waiting for Jim to explain himself, Jim having all he could say stuck in a tie knot in his throat.

"Spock…" he eventually says. "I'm sorry I didn't respond… didn't warn you really. I-"

"Jim, before you find an excuse, you should know that I am aware you have been lying to me."

Jim's anger, who has been dormant since he steps into his house, jumps out. "According to you, omitting facts is not lying."

Spock makes a lot of effort to remain stoic, and it would have worked with someone who knows him less, but Jim sees the pain he causes. He crosses the few feet keeping them apart, and grips his husband's arms.

"No, I did not mean it. My love, I- You're right, I have been lying. I apologize."

As a response, Spock shows two fingers. Jim let his hand slide along his husband's arm to respond to the kiss.

"How did you know I was lying?"

"You are my bondmate, I have to notice when you are not acting like yourself. Also, Mister Chekov told me you were behaving strangely."

Jim squints. "Since when do you have your students spying on me?"

"I do not have anyone spying on you, it would be a treason to our bond and our trust. Mister Chekov told me because he is worried about you."

"I know, it was- I was making a poor joke."

"Indeed."

Jim passes a hand behind Spock, and the Vulcan hugs him back. They are still kissing.

"T'hy'la, as your bondmate, it is my duty to take care of you and insure your well-being. For me to fulfill my duties you have to…"

"Let you help me, Spock?"

They are both familiar with the novel, but still, Spock responds: "This is the logical thing to do."

Jim puts his noise in Spock's shoulder. "I don't know how to explain." He lets the words drag before taking a few deep breaths. Spock does not rush him. “Do- do you remember last week when I told you I dreamed I was a Starship's captain?”

“I do.”

“Well, I keep having those dreams since then. And waking up with headaches.”

“I have been noticing your headaches.”

Jim's face melts from the fondness spreading in him.

“At first I brushed it off,” he continues. “I thought it was stress, but…”

“Then, you started having flashes, like with your brother,” Spock supplies when Jim trails off.

“Yes. I saw people wearing the Starfleet's uniform, and today when I was closing the library, she turned into a Starship. I did not come here after my shift because I was looking for other places where something similar would happen.”

“Did you find any?”

“No. My love, what do you think it means?”

Spock does not respond, looking at Jim like he would find the answer by observing him. He raises a hand toward Jim's head, and the man recognizes an incoming mind melt. But, after letting his hand linger next to Jim's face, the Vulcan brings it back at his side without touching his bondmate.

“I do not have any speculation to offer. But ashayam, maybe you should consider making a psychological evaluation.”

“So you think I have something wrong with my brain…” Jim can't help but feel a little hurt by that.

“It is the logical assumption when confront with hallucinations, even if they are caused by stress like you speculated.”

“As always, your logic is sound.” Jim rubs his stained eyes, feeling aware of the late hour. “Bones is going to yell at me for not seeing him sooner, isn't he?”

“Ashayam, we can ask another doctor if you don't-”

“No, no, this is not what I meant.”

“I do not understand why you are getting along with Doctor McCoy's antics.”

“Come on honey, you know that his yelling and grumpiness is how he shows he cares. Even when it's directed at you. And I know you like him too.”

Spock ignores his statement. “Will you go see him?”

“Yes, I will.”

Spock nods. He raises his hand again, and this time touches Jim, cupping his face and bringing him into a kiss.

Jim internally scolds himself. He should have talked to Spock sooner. As long as they are together, everything will turn out okay.


	3. A Father's Life

"I don't know what to tell you Jim," Doctor Leonard McCoy shows his friend and patient the result of the medical test he has just run. "According to my equipment, you shouldn't be having any kind of hallucination."

"I don't know if I should be relieved or not, Bones."

Spock has secured an appointment with the Doctor and the day off for both of them early in the morning. Jim; has woken up alone with a headache Jim; has been quite aggressive hearing the news, accusing Spock of steamrolling him. The Vulcan apologized but, once back in bed, took again an initiative, having thought of physical activities to enjoy in their free morning. This time, Jim did not complain.

And now, just a couple of hours later, Spock is looking at Jim bare torso while the human is deliberately taking too much time to put his shirt back on.

"I will run a few others analyzes,” Bones went on, “but maybe your problem is not your brain, Jim."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, when was the last time you took a vacation?"

"It was…" Instead of an answer, Jim finds the now familiar headache.

"Exactly," Bones continues. "You don't remember! And as the computer you call a husband did not jump in with an accurate answer, that means it has been too damn long for both of you!"

Spock's response is to stare at the doctor, which is only proving him right.

"So, you're taking a break, doctor's order."

"A trip to Vulcan in twenty-seven point fifty-two days is already planned."

"Well, try enjoying it. I'll call you if I find something else. And you," he pokes Jim's arm, "call me if it doesn't get any better. Especially if you're on Vulcan! I will not let a heartless doctor take care of you!"

"Doctor, I believe you would learn quite a few things with Vulcan's healers. Especially concerning bedsides manners."

"And you, Spock, would learn that I have great bedsides manners with patients who actually stay in their beds."

Spock raises an eyebrow to express his skepticism.

"Thanks, Bones."

"Anytime, Jim. Do you need a refill for your ADHD medication while you're here?”

“I'm good thanks.”

“Well, what about a drink? I have time before my next appointment.”

"Not today Bones. It's my weekend."

Understanding flies between the two men. "Don't let me keep you, then."

"Dear, maybe it would be wiser to wait next week."

Jim smiles. Spock is always careful to use exclusively Vulcan's endearment in front of Bones, since the doctor makes fun of him when he doesn't. For him to split like that, he must be incredibly worried. Jim wishes he has a proper argument to reassure him.

"I am not cancelling."

"Spock," McCoy manages to look comfortable sitting at the top of his desk, "maybe one day you'll learn that human fathers don't function on logic."

"I assure you Doctor, I realize it every day."

Bones finds a sarcastic response, and the two men engage in their usual banter. 

Seeing no problem in delaying his and Spock's departure, Jim observes the back and forth, delighted that his two favorite people are getting along so well.

* * *

Jim smiles hearing what sounds like a pachyderm running inside Carol's house. Despite what the noise leads to imagine, a small eight years old opens the door.

"Daddy!" he jumps at Jim's neck.

"Hello, sweetie." He puts his arms around his son and picks him up.

The child turns toward Spock with a ta'al. "Leave long and prosper!"

"Leave long and prosper, David." Spock puts his fingertips on David's, the Vulcan's greeting between child and parents.

David's mother steps out the door. "Hello, boys."

"Hello, Carol."

"Good evening, Doctor Marcus." Spock grabs the bag, containing David's necessities for the weekend, the woman is handing him.

Jim looks Carol from head to toe while she is closing the door behind her. Her appearance today isn't particularly noticeable, even if pretty; but in ten years he never saw Carol in a bad outfit; however he knows her and sees the bit of extra effort she has put in her look. He stage-whispers into David's ear: "Does your mom have a date?"

"Eew, gross!"

Carol flashes a smile, "I do. They're called the science section of Starfleet."

"Starfleet?" Jim tenses. He exchanges a suspicious look with Spock.

Carol doesn't catch their glance, busy checking what is in her purse. "Yes. My lab is tackling an ambitious project, and we're looking for extra resources. But I'll tell you all about it Sunday. This little man has more interesting things to tell you."

"I lost a tooth!" David yells immediately, ignoring the kiss his mother is giving him.

"Oh, really?" Jim asks as if he hasn't seen the gasp in the boy's mouth.

With David still in his arms and Spock by his side, he climbs down the stairs leading to the front door, the epic tell of the lost baby tooth filling the street. But his eyes never leave the woman ahead as she is hurrying away for an unknown project with Starfleet.

* * *

Carol's pregnancy was unexpected. She and Jim were still a bit young, not secure in their career and, most importantly, both aware that what they had would not last a lot longer. But Carol wanted to keep the baby, and Jim has expressed his wish to help her.

Having a child had never been one of his priorities in life, but once in front of the possibility, Jim was ecstatic. And, after eight years of fatherhood, he still is.

This is the train of thought of Jim as he's contemplating David doing his homework at the kitchen table with Mister "Jim-I-Must-Warned-You-That-I-Am-Not-Good-with-Children" Spock. The Vulcan is giving a lecture about geology to the child who is drinking every word, always voicing new questions and ordering explanations that Spock is more than happy to give.

"Cool!" says the eight years old now that he has as much knowledge about rock formation than mister Chekov. "But I only have one line to write the answer."

While Spock is looking at the page of homework like Terran's education system has been made especially to spite him, Jim slides toward him the cup of tea he has made and sits on the other side of David.

"I'm sure you can figure out what you are supposed to write here."

The boy does without much difficulty, and, for the rest of the exercise, ignores his lesson for Spock's lecture.

Once his science homework done, he turns to Spock with his most innocent face: "Will you help me with my algebra homework?"

"Okay little smart ass," Jim ruffles David's hairs. His son has quickly understood how to take advantage of Spock's reflex to blur out calculus' answers. "You know it's not going to happen."

Spock hides his smile behind his cup of tea before standing up. "I am going to buy tonight's pizzas.”

The promise of movie night and pizza are the rare things making David do his homework on a Friday evening.

When Spock comes back, Jim and David are already in the living room, debating of the movie to watch. Jim doesn't like his son's choice but, in front of David's insistence and promise that he will not be scared, ends up agreeing. Turns out, the movie does scare David, but the kid is almost able to hide it except for the occasional flinching and the two times he hides his face in his hands. Over his head, Jim and Spock often exchange perplexed glances, finding the movie dull and failing to understand the appeal.

Once David is in bed, Jim enjoys an old fashion book, with twentieth century music in the background and his feet under Spock's lap, his husband sitting at the other end of the sofa with a PADD.

But Jim is not able to concentrate more than two sentences. He doesn't know how long he has been looking blankly at the same page when Spock says:

"You are thinking about doctor Marcus' appointment."

The Vulcan is looking at him, his PADD turned off on his laps. Putting aside his book, Jim straightens to be at eyes level with Spock. His feet are still under the other man, his hands, hanging over his knees, casually resting against the slim torso.

"Don't you think it is weird that she had an appointment with Starfleet? When I keep hallucinating about it?"

"I admit, it is easy to find it odd in your situation, but it is quite logical. Starfleet does have the best scientific resource in the Federation. I do not know what Doctor Marcus is working on, but it is not unexpected of her to ask for their help."

"Maybe…"

"T'hy'la, you seem to forget that we are both also working for Starfleet, even if only at the academy."

Jim does smile at that. "You're right." He puts his forehead against Spock's. "I'm lucky you're here to be logical, k'diwa."

"Indeed."

Jim gently grabs Spock's hand and puts it at his mouth, kissing it. He enjoys greatly the soft blush appearing on Spock's cheeks.

The classical music is still playing, filling the air with romantic confessions. I can't help falling in love with you, it is singing. Jim would not be able to focus on his book tonight. He stands up, Spock's hand still in his.

"Can I have this dance?"

Smiling softly, Spock raises from the couch. Jim leads him, moves their bodies around the living room. They quickly fail to follow the tempo, for this song and the next, and they notice it but none of them care.

They only care about the other person in their arms, shifting along with them. And the shelf Spock collides with. And the table Jim knocks his knee against. And the cat they almost step on.

And Jim's laugh, its own melody. And Spock's smile, so non Vulcan.

Jim leads Spock closer against him, the arm in the Vulcan's back wraps in a hug. Spock put his forehead against his. At some point their fingers have interlaced.

They share numerous kisses, here in the middle of their home, surrounded by love songs.

* * *

This dream is different from the others.

For a start, Jim is not captain. Not yet anyway.

But mostly, he is not in space on a ship, but on earth in the flat he lived in with Carol.

And she is breaking up with him.

"I'm sorry, Jim. But what we have… It's not working out."

He can hardly swallow. "Is it really how you feel?"

"Please, don't act like this is coming out of nowhere."

"I don't!" Jim is pacing their small living space, afraid if he stops he will explode. "You're right, it's not coming out of nowhere but- I thought we were going to fight for our relationship, because I love you and I thought you-" He can't end that sentence, the accusation is too serious.

Carol cups his face with her hand, reassuring: "I do love you. And I know you love me but… You love it out there in the stars more. Our relationship will always come second, and you kn-"

Jim rips her hand away. He can't bare having her touch him right now. "Don't act like I'm the only one responsible! You had prioritized your career as much as I did!"

"You're right," is her simple response. She does not make another move toward him.

Jim is grabbing a chair, his knuckles turning white with the pressure. He can't let his temper take the best of him, or he's going to miss information.

"I don't understand, Carol. We both knew from the beginning our careers were going to be more important. And we made it work, hell, we were happy with that!"

"Maybe I am not happy with it anymore."

But Jim knows this is not it. He looks at her, analyzes her, her determinate glaze, her straight posture, the hand on her belly.

Understanding knocks him like a falling wall. His voice is shaking: “What about the child?” 

For the first time of the discussion, she's turning her face away from him. Jim grabs her by her arm, forcing her to face him. Her eyes are wet.

She can't do this to him.

"What about the child, Carol?"

"I- I'm sorry, Jim. I-"

"Daddy." A loud whisper and a small hand shaking his arms wake him up.

Jim blinks a few times, his drowsy mind unable to make sense of the blond locks and big eyes he's seeing.

David continues to shake him. "I had a nightmare."

So did Jim. "I told you, that movie was too scary for you."

"Can I sleep with you?"

"No David, you are too old. You need to learn to face your fear."

"Oh," the child manages to make the simple syllable sounds like the saddest noise in the world. He drags his feet towards the door.

On the other side of the bed, the curl up, perfectly motionless Vulcan speaks, startling Jim: "David, it is illogical to be afraid of dreams."

"I know."

"Dreams are but your brain processing the experience of your day." Spock insists.

David stops where he is standing, at the foot of the bed. He watches Spock in silence, his little brain cells coming with a plan.

"How does it work?"

It prompts Spock to start a long explanation about the human psyche. David, probably thinking he is being incredibly sneaky, waits a full ten seconds before going into the bed between Spock and Jim. When he locks eyes with his father, he stops, waiting for a rebuke, but none comes and the child puts himself under the cover.

Jim wonders if Spock is really that credulous to David's purpose, or if he simply doesn't want the boy to sleep alone after a nightmare. Either way, he's not going to investigate tonight, he is sleepy and has a headache.

And having his son with him reassures him.

He hugs David and falls back asleep before Spock finishes his info dump.

* * *

Jim is at the library, sitting in his office, and for a second he is relieved his dreams are finally over.

But he notices the books and plants that are supposed to be at home, the make-up over the chest of drawers - a dresser he realizes - the bed in the back of the room. And his golden shirt with a Starfleet insignia.

He is in the starship's captain quarters. His quarters.

The fact that the ship is modeled after the library means something, something important, he feels it in his guts. As he feels that the signification is not a big, unbreakable mystery, that he should be able to grasp it. But for whatever reason, it keeps eluding his reach.

A beeping at the door precedes the entrance of Chief Medical Officer Leonard McCoy, with a bottle of Brandy and two glasses.

“Bones,” Jim smiles. Being reassured by his best friend's presence seems like the right thing to do.

The man offers him a glass before saying anything.

"It's a hard one, isn't it Jim?"

“What is, Bones?”

The previous dreams were simple, movies flawlessly running while Jim instinctively knew how to act, what to say. But this one, he realizes with concern, this one is demanding.

"How much are you satisfied with it?"

There is a peculiar answer the doctor is waiting for, but Jim ignores which one. He is lost in this interaction, a Shakespearean actor who never received the script but he's still expected to deliver the heartbreaking monologue.

"Satisfy with what?" he eventually says.

"Your life."

"I don't know what more I could ask for."

"This."

The word does not come from Bones, but from the ship herself. Jim turns to the speaker where the feminine, artificial voice has come from.

“Jim.” Bones grabs his arm, bringing his intention back on him.

"It doesn't make sense…"

"Are you sure? Because it does feel like it."

"I can't throw what I have because of a feeling!"

"Says who?" Bones is losing his temper. "That damn Vulcan of yours? You shouldn't listen to him, he's only keeping you from where you belong."

Jim wants to get angry, to defend Spock. But instead, he asks: "Where do I belong?"

"Here," The Enterprise responds.

Jim looks back at the speaker.

"Jim."

He ignores Bones.

"Captain Kirk."

The voice calling him has the deepness and southern accent of his friend, but also the uniform and robotic tone of the ship's computer. Jim could do nothing else but look at the other figure standing with him. 

The unsettling mix of human and computer voices has only one thing to say: "You need to come back."

Jim bolds awake, and immediately puts his head in his hands with a groan of pain. All the muscles of his body are sores, and his heart is trying to burst his chest open, but it is nothing next to the headache cracking his skull from the inside.

It takes several minutes before the pain eases and Jim is able to register his surrounding.

He is alone in the room.

Throwing himself out of the bed, the world spins around him, and his legs slump under him. But Jim forces his body to keep standing, and to run out of the room, not slowing down when he stumbles in the stairs nor when he hears voices downstairs.

Finally, he lays eyes on David and Spock, sitting in the kitchen with breakfast. His relief should be more overwhelming than it is.

"Hello, daddy!"

"Good morning." Jim tries to sound casual and relax, despite his erratic breathing, his sweat dumping him, his heart drumming against his chest and his hand holding the wall for dear life.

Spock looks at him with a raised eyebrow.

Eventually, he walks into the kitchen, and places himself between Spock and David, putting a hand on their shoulders. There are solid, warm bodies under his palms. Sighing softly, he kisses David's head.

"Did you sleep well?" Spock asks, worries in his voice.

Jim kisses him.

"I'll tell you later," Jim knows his husband will hear the words breathed against his mouth despite David's exaggerated cry of disgust.

With a light squeeze, he let go of the shoulders. "Is there any coffee?"

_ This  _ is _ where I belong _ , he reassures himself.

_ Are you sure? _ the Bones-Enterprise voice responds.

* * *

Carol opens the door of her house and takes the sleeping child from Jim's arms.

"Long day?" she asks.

"We went to the swimming pool." Jim readjusts David's bag on his shoulder and follows the woman inside.

Shortly after, he is standing alone over David's bed. The child, who has been awakened to put on his pajamas and brush his teeth, looks at him with little, exhausted eyes.

“You're nice with your mother, okay kiddo?” Jim says as he gently tucks the kid in.

“Yes”, David yaws. “See you next week daddy.”

Jim kisses his son's cheek.

Once the door is closed behind him, Carol asks: “Where's Spock?”

“At home.” Jim follows her lead in the living space. “He said he needed to work and was falling behind schedule.”

“I didn't know Vulcans could fall behind schedule.”

“Only the ones they impose themselves.”

Carol laughs at that. She grabs a mostly empty bottle of wine. "Do you want to help me finish it, or do you rather have a coffee?"

Jim sits on her couch. "I will feel bad if you had to throw it away because of me."

Carol is already pouring a glass.

"How was your appointment with Starfleet?" Jim asks when she is giving him the drink.

"Good." She sits down on a chair in front of him.

Ignoring her own glass for now, she takes off her bobby pins. Savoring the small pleasure of having her hair down after a long day, she passes her hand in the locks and massages her skull. Looking at her, Jim feels nostalgic. He saw her do that every evening when they lived together. Now that he is thinking of it, Carol hasn't changed that much since then, she even looks like she's still 25 years old. He absently wonders if she thinks the same thing about him.

"Actually, I need to talk to you about it," she turns back to him.

Her posture gives Jim a knot in his stomach. He saw it not longer than two nights ago.

"Something's bad?"

"Not really, but I'm afraid you're not going to like it."

Jim straightens up in his seat, readying himself for whatever may come.

"I told you last time that my lab has a new project."

"And it's why you need Starfleet's resources."

She nods. "I am not allowed to talk about the specifics, I can't tell you more about the project itself."

"I understand," Jim sounds more lay back than he is.

"But Starfleet is really interested in it. Nothing is official yet, we still need to negotiate some details, but we will be able to start working in six months. Me and my team, will start working."

Jim is starting to see where she is going. "It's a job off the city."

She bites her lips. "It's a job off planet."

Jim feels like he is receiving a bucket of iced water in his head. Carol is still talking, and he is using all his will power to listen.

"It is the best job opportunity I will have in my life, I can't say no. Do you understand?"

"What about-"

_ "What about the child, Carol?" _

_ "I- I'm sorry, Jim. I-" _

"I was thinking… he could stay with you?"

_ "I can't have you in his life." _

The dissonance between the woman in front of him right now and the one that was eight years ago is making Jim dizzy. But he ignores it, focussing on Carol. He needs to gather all he can and understand the situation.

"Really?"

She comes sit next to him on the couch.

_ She is taking advantage of his shock to get out his grip and steps away. _

"I want my son with me. But a small science station in the stars is no place for a child. Don't worry, I don't intend to spend all my life in space."

_ "I want my son with me. But you and your stars… You're going to take him away from me. I can live with your perilous adventure but him… I can't bear the idea he may die in space." _

_ "You don't know this is what is going to happen! Carol, please!" _

“You know, Starfleet must have ways to accommodate the station for children. I'll understand if you wished to take David.”

Carol is smiling softly.

_ Carol is shaking with repress tears. "I am not taking the risk. This child will not have a father." _

"I am not taking the risk. Besides, it will be cruel to deny you of fatherhood."

"It will," Jim acquiesces.  _ And you did. _

Jim looks at the image of the person he loved eight years ago. The young, brilliant, stubborn woman fighting for her son.

He is only seeing a weak reflection.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so happy I can finally post this story! It's one of three babies I crafted during confinement and the "youngest".  
> Don't be afraid to leave feedbacks, every kudos and comments make my day :) And if you want, come say hi on tumblr @saritaadam


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